The End: Part 6 of Thomas and Andy: A DA Love Story
by dustnik
Summary: Set in 1940–1948. Thomas' beloved Andy has gone off to fight in WWII. Canon divergence after Season 5. AU in which Andy is gay, and he and Thomas are together.
1. Chapter 1

**_No one who had lived through the Great War would ever forget it. It had been dubbed the war to end all wars, but now, little more than two decades after its conclusion, Britain was once again at war with Germany._**

Thomas Barrow had been at Downton Abbey for thirty years, the last fifteen as butler. His hair was mostly silver now, but he was still vain enough to appreciate that it remained thick and luxurious. He had seen many changes in the household during his time there, the greatest being the passing of old Lord Grantham.

Upon his death, the title had immediately fallen to his young grandson, Master George Crawley, now grown to age nineteen. The boy looked uncannily like his late father with the same flaxen hair and blue eyes, but there was a determination in the set of his jaw that was decidedly his mother's. He had joined the army on his eighteenth birthday, anxious to prove himself like his father and grandfather before him.

Thomas was the only male servant left downstairs. When the war broke out, Andy immediately volunteered to fight. The butler begged him to wait, knowing first-hand the horrors of war, but the younger man's mind was made up. Andy chose to join the Royal Air Force, having a keen interest in anything to do with planes and flying. After the initial testing period, he was sent to flight school and was one of the few selected for additional fighter pilot training. Thomas was proud of his accomplishments but terrified for him at the same time.

One evening, he was distributing the last post before the downstairs dinner. He smiled happily to himself upon discovering a letter from Andy. The maids noted his reaction and exchanged knowing looks among themselves. The men's relationship was a constant source of merriment for the women.

The butler took his seat and looked about the table. He didn't really know these people, not in the old way. Sometimes he found himself missing the days when the servants' hall rang out with the voices of valets and lady's maids. No one was left from those times except Andy and himself. Mr. Carson had died shortly after old Lord Grantham. _Probably out of loyalty_ , Thomas thought meanly at the time. Mrs. Patmore followed soon after. But both lived to a ripe old age and enjoyed a long and happy retirement.

After dinner, Thomas escaped to the privacy of his bedroom and tore open the envelope. He knew that all military correspondence was carefully read and censored and Andy had to be very mindful what he wrote. He reached into his pocket for his spectacles and began to read.

 _Dear Uncle Thomas,_

 _I don't have much time to write as we're about to go out again. I know how you worry, so I just wanted to let you know that I'm alright and missing you terribly. I really love flying, being up in the clouds. It makes one feel so free. I can't wait to take you up with me someday._

 _Not likely_ , Thomas thought. He preferred to keep his feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much.

 _I feel so old compared to the other pilots, some of whom could almost be my sons._

It seemed odd to think of Andy as old.

 _I hope you've finally managed to shake that cold of yours. I want you healthy when I see you again. Thanks for the biscuits you sent. I shared them with the other fellows, and they send their thanks too. Tell everyone back at the Abbey I miss them and look forward to seeing them soon._

 _Love, Your Flyboy, Andy_

Thomas laughed, wondering what the censors had made of the signature. He reread the missive three more times before finally putting it back in the envelope. He filed it away with all the others in his dresser drawer, the same way he had once done with Philip's letters. His eyes fixed upon the framed photograph residing beside his bed next to that of his mother. The picture featured a smiling Andy in his RAF uniform, his dark cap of curls shorn off. With age, he had filled out and grown into his somewhat quirky looks. Thomas thought him quite handsome now.

He washed and changed into his pajamas. Before getting into bed, he performed an act that had become a nightly ritual. He sank to the floor on his creaky knees to pray to a God who hated him and what he was. "Please, God, keep him safe and bring him back to me," he whispered in the dark. Not even God himself could hate the good and gentle Andy.

The beginning of the war had triggered the nightmares again. The memories that he was able to push aside during the day wouldn't be suppressed in sleep. Almost nightly now, he found himself back in the trenches, wading through dead and dying bodies, an entire generation of young men decimated in four, short, terrible years. Thomas was often awakened by the sound of his own cries. He was only glad there were no longer any men on his side of the separating door to hear him.

Sometimes he would dream of Edward who hadn't been strong enough to face reality and escaped the only way he knew how. Other times, it was William, the kind and simple farm lad who had been eager to do his part for king and country. On that night, it was Andy's turn, his Spitfire shot down from the sky by a German Messerschmitt. Thomas woke with his heart pounding and frightened tears rolling down his face. There would be no more sleep for him that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Several days later, Lady Mary was seated in the library when Thomas entered with the tea. She had never remarried following the death of her husband nearly two decades earlier, despite the series of eager suitors that followed. The headstrong woman was unwilling to surrender her independence, content to manage the estate for her son until he came of age. She had received a letter from the young Earl only that day to say that he would be returning to Downton on a short leave. "You've heard the news, Barrow?"

"I have, m'lady. It will be nice to have Master George home again." He only wished Andy were coming too.

Mary smiled, noting the use of her son's childhood name. "Yes, but you must remember to call him Lord Grantham now."

Thomas nodded. "Old habits die hard." He spoke with the familiarity of thirty years of service.

"Have you heard from Andrew lately? One of the maids thought you had."

"I got a letter from him the other day, m'lady." It was an open secret that he and Andy were together. No one spoke about it, but everybody knew. The footman had only been kept on due to the Crawleys' desire not to lose their butler.

"I hope he's well." She realized that Thomas must be as worried for Andrew as she was for George, but he had no one to share his concerns with. It must be very difficult for him. "Has he finished all his training?"

"He has. He's a fighter pilot now." The servant couldn't hide the pride in his voice.

"Goodness. When you write to him, be sure to tell him we're all thinking of him."

Thomas was touched. "I will, m'lady. Thank you." He wondered if the family had shown any interest in him when he was at the front in the last war. No one ever talked to him about it when he came back, not even when he returned wearing a glove to hide the ugly puckered wound through his hand.

Later, he was winding the clock in the drawing room where Sybbie Branson was reading a novel. The twenty-year-old had come from America to stay with her grandmother while her father, Tom, remained in Boston with his Irish-American wife and their large brood of children. She had grown into a beautiful but rebellious young woman much like Lady Sybil herself. "Barrow," she began when he was finished, "did you know my mother?"

Thomas was surprised at the question. "Yes, I did, Miss. She was younger than you are now when I first came here as a footman. We worked together at the hospital during the war, so I got to know her pretty well."

"What was she like?"

"She was very kind." The young nurse had been quick to comfort him after Edward's suicide, even knowing what the two men were to each other. In turn, he had kept silent about her forbidden romance with Tom Branson.

"Am I like her? My father says I am."

The butler smiled. "Yes, I often see her in you." Sometimes looking at her and Master George, he felt an eerie sense of the past repeating itself. "How is Mr. Branson?"

"Daddy's a dear old thing."

Branson was a few years younger than himself, so if she thought her father was old, she must consider him a fossil.

She mused, "It must have been a huge scandal when my mother married a chauffeur."

That was an understatement. "It came as quite a shock, Miss, both upstairs and down."

"Well, I think it's romantic. Imagine two people risking everything for love with the whole world against them."

He didn't have to imagine it. He lived it every day.

That weekend, the Abbey welcomed home young Lord Grantham. He had matured during his year in the army. His face had lost the innocence of youth, replaced with the world-weary expression of a soldier who has witnessed the true savagery of war. Thomas understood that change all too well. He accompanied the Earl to his room to unpack his things. Andy usually saw to his needs, but now the task fell to the butler as the only remaining male servant. He was struck again by the young man's similarity to his father. It was almost as if Matthew Crawley were standing there before him. "Welcome home, Your Lordship."

"Thank you, Barrow. How have you been?"

"Very well, I think."

"I heard Andy joined the RAF. I guess the army wasn't smart enough for him," George said jokingly.

"He's always been interested in planes. He's a fighter pilot now."

George became immediately concerned. He knew the mortality rate was extremely high for pilots engaging in combat missions over Britain. He had always looked on Andy as an older, wiser confidante and couldn't bear to think of anything happening to him.

Thomas correctly read his thoughts and felt the knot in his stomach become even tighter. "He's fine, m'lord." He spoke more to convince himself than the younger man.

"Of course, he is. We would have heard if anything had happened."

The butler knew that Andy had listed his mother as his next of kin but made her promise to notify him immediately if she received any news.

George tried to lighten the mood in the room. "If anyone can take down the German Luftwaffe, it's Andy."

Thomas saw that he was trying to make him feel better and managed a weak smile.

Dinner that night was a jolly affair. Lady Grantham had instructed the cook to prepare all her grandson's favorite dishes, and he tucked into them enthusiastically. He was flanked at the table by his adoring cousins, Sybbie and Marigold.

At the start of the Blitz, Lady Edith, her husband Bertie, and their seventeen-year-old daughter had promptly fled London for the relative safety of Downton Abbey. Edith, like her sister, excelled at business, successfully growing the publishing company left to her by Michael Gregson and making her a very wealthy woman in her own right.

Sybbie was anxious to hear about the war. "Have you killed any Germans, George?"

Lady Grantham looked shocked. "Really, Sybbie, I hardly think that's an appropriate question, especially during dinner."

The young woman continued unabashed. "I was listening to the wireless earlier, and they said there have been air battles going on all day over England, but none near Yorkshire." She sounded disappointed. "They said it was the biggest day of aerial fighting so far."

Thomas nearly dropped the platter of food he was holding. "Are you alright, Barrow?" Lady Mary questioned.

"Yes, thank you, m'lady," he managed to croak out. After the servants' dinner, he retired to his room. He hadn't been able to eat much after hearing the talk upstairs. He always did his best to avoid radio and newspaper accounts of the war. To him, every plane shot down was Andy's, every pilot forced to parachute out over enemy territory was Andy. He was only able to bear it by working himself into a state of exhaustion.

The following days passed quickly, and young Lord Grantham returned to battle amid tearful goodbyes and impassioned pleas to be safe. The butler shook his hand before he left.

The next morning, Thomas received a letter from London, addressed to him in an unfamiliar script. He never received much personal correspondence, just an occasional letter from a cousin or some friend he'd met in service, but over the years, even those had dwindled down to a signed card at Christmas. He seldom heard from his sister since their father's funeral and never from his niece and nephew. Looking down at the envelope, he instantly recognized the return address, and his blood went cold. It was from Andy's mother.


	3. Chapter 3

Before the death of old Lord Grantham, the Crawleys spent the summer months at their London home, Grantham House, doing the season. That meant balls and receptions and lavish dinners for the family, but for their servants, it was business as usual downstairs. However, Andy always looked forward to this time as it allowed him to see his large family again. His mother had remarried following the death of his father years earlier in the last war. Mr. Harris was a good and decent man who ran a butcher shop in the east end where the couple resided.

That first year, Andy was eager for Thomas to meet his family and invited him along on a visit home. The underbutler agreed reluctantly, donning his best suit and hat, and mentally prepared himself for an evening of awkward, stilted conversation. He was pleasantly surprised to find that a party was already underway to celebrate Andy's homecoming. The cramped, little house was filled to the rafters with Andy's many brothers and sisters, along with their spouses and children.

Upon entering, the footman promptly sought out his mother. She wasn't tall like Andy, but she had the same dark, curly hair and wide-set, hazel eyes. After a heartfelt embrace and an exchange of warm greetings, Andy remembered Thomas standing next to him. "Mum, I brought someone with me that I want you to meet. This is Mr. Barrow," he announced proudly.

The woman fixed Thomas with a welcoming smile. "Andy's told us all about you in his letters, Mr. Barrow. He said you've been very kind to him."

Before he could muster a reply, one of Andy's older brothers clapped him on the back. "You must be the butler chap Andy's always going on about. I'm Bill, by the way."

"Thomas."

A younger sister rushed up and kissed Andy on the cheek. "Welcome home, brother." She turned to the underbutler. "Is this him? He's very handsome."

Thomas felt his face redden.

Andy grinned at his obvious discomfort. "This is my little sister, Lucy."

"It's nice to meet you." Thomas offered her his hand, but to his surprise, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek as well.

"Come and get some food." She led the two men across the crowded room with Andy's nieces and nephews winding their way about them.

An older man stood against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, happily surveying the scene. Thomas supposed this was the stepfather. "Hello, Joe," Andy greeted him affectionately.

"It's good to see you again, lad. Get yourselves something to eat there." He indicated a long table filled with tasty treats. "There's some beef and ham from the shop." Both men eagerly helped themselves while all the various family members came up to chat with Andy. The footman was quick to introduce them to Thomas and include him in the conversation.

Andy's mother quietly approached them, taking Thomas aside. She sensed what the two men had become to each other. "Mr. Barrow, please, look out for my son, so far away from his home and family. I worry about what could happen to him—being the way he is." She studied the underbutler's face to see if he understood.

He knew what she was really asking him and smiled reassuringly. "I promise I'll take good care of him for you." Thomas visited Andy's home many times through the years and became a welcome member of the family. He grew to care for all of them, and they for him. No one questioned the nature of the men's relationship. Thomas Barrow made Andy happy, and that was all they needed to know.

* * *

Thomas gazed in stunned silence at the envelope in his hand. The other members of staff were waiting for him to sit down, so they could begin their breakfast, but he seemed frozen, his face an emotionless mask. Finally, the housekeeper inquired gently, "Is anything wrong, Mr. Barrow?"

He looked up to see the servants all staring at him. "Please, excuse me." He hurried upstairs to the privacy of his room where he fell back in his armchair and immediately placed a cigarette between his lips. It took him several moments to calm his shaking hand enough to light it. The envelope remained in his lap unopened. As long as he didn't read the words, everything was fine, and Andy would be coming home to him.

* * *

In the dining room, the family members gathered around the table, the married women no longer eating off a tray in their rooms. The housekeeper presided next to the sideboard in Thomas' stead. Lady Grantham looked immediately concerned. "Has Barrow been taken ill?"

The servant answered truthfully. "I'm not sure, m'lady. He went back up to his room before breakfast and hasn't come down since."

"How strange."

Bertie Pelham looked up from his stewed fruit. "I could go and check on him later if you like." As he was the only other man in the house, he felt compelled to make the offer.

"That would be kind. Thank you, darling." Lady Edith flashed him a grateful smile.

Sybbie turned toward her grandmother. "I thought I might take one of the cars and drive into Ripon. I want to do a little shopping."

Lady Grantham frowned. "Why don't you get Poole to take you? You're still not used to driving on the left-hand side of the road."

"I'll be fine, Granny. After all, my father was a chauffeur," she joked while Lady Mary rolled her eyes.

Marigold was slightly in awe of her older, American cousin's confidence. She, on the other hand, was a very serious girl and painfully shy. "C-can I come too?"

Edith looked uncertain. "I don't think—"

"Of course, you can," Sybbie replied, and Marigold smiled happily.

* * *

Thomas could put it off no longer. He tore open the envelope and removed its contents. After reading the letter carefully, he let it fall to the floor. He removed his spectacles and reached for his hat before making his way downstairs. He slipped out the back door, ignoring all the curious glances and concerned questions from the other servants.

* * *

On the way to Ripon, Marigold couldn't stop thinking about Thomas. Growing up, she had always had a crush on her grandparents' handsome butler. She knew it wasn't like him to be ill. "You don't suppose something could really be wrong with Barrow?" she asked.

Sybbie lit a cigarette and offered one to the younger girl which she promptly refused. "He's probably just missing his boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"You do know that he and Andy are queer, don't you?"

Marigold looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

Sybbie sighed. Sometimes her cousin could be such a baby. "They're lovers. They have been for ages."

Marigold was shocked. "You mean they do the kinds of things that married men and women do together?"

"Yes, but don't say I told you. Aunt Edith wouldn't approve of you knowing about such things." They rode the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Bertie knocked softly on the butler's door, unaware that he had gone out. Receiving no reply, he turned the knob and entered, expecting to find the servant indisposed, but the room was empty and neat as a pin, the way the fastidious Thomas always kept it. The only thing out of place was several folded sheets of paper dropped on the floor beside the armchair. Bertie picked them up, his curiosity aroused. As he started to read, his face became grim. He put the pages back on the floor where he found them and left the room. He didn't inform the rest of the family what he had learned in the letter. He was ashamed that he had read the private correspondence of a man he barely knew, a man who was forced by society to live his life in the shadows. Thomas guarded his secrets fiercely, and Bertie respected that.

* * *

Thomas removed his hat before stepping into the church. He only took a few steps down the aisle before slipping into a pew; he didn't feel worthy to sit any nearer to the front. He had never been a religious man, especially after his wartime experiences, believing no God would allow such carnage, but all that changed for him when Andy went off to fight. He needed to believe there was a force in the universe that would bring the younger man back to him safe and sound. Thomas prayed like he never prayed before. He bargained with God, promising if He would only spare Andy, he'd never do anything sinful again. He even offered up his own life in exchange for the pilot's. After all, without Andy, he had no life anyway. He left the church with his shoulders bowed and headed home.


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas returned to the Abbey before the servants' luncheon looking ashen and drawn. He gathered the entire staff together including the kitchen help. He only wanted to say it once. "Today I received a letter from Mrs. Harris, Andy's mother. It seems he went out on a mission a few days ago and never returned. At this time, he is considered missing in action."

The women received the news with expressions of shock and sorrow. Andy was much-beloved downstairs. The pain in their eyes quickly turned to compassion for the tall, stoic figure standing before them, but they knew any gesture of sympathy would only meet with an angry rebuke from the butler. He would never allow anyone to pity him. They ate their meal in silence; no one felt very hungry.

Later, Thomas went upstairs to serve the family their lunch. Immediately upon entering the dining room, Lady Grantham exclaimed, "Oh, you do look pale, Barrow. Are you sure you shouldn't have a rest? You're working much too hard."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you, Your Ladyship." He wondered how many times he had said that in the last thirty years when in truth, he was anything but fine.

By tea time, the news about Andy had made its way upstairs. Sybbie and Marigold were back from Ripon, and the whole family was assembled in the library. As the butler entered with the tea tray, everyone stopped speaking at once, causing an awkward silence. Marigold kept staring curiously at him, but he was too distracted to notice. Afterward, the family scattered quickly, except for Lady Mary who remained behind. Thomas was clearing away the tea things when he felt a comforting touch on his arm.

"We've heard the news about Andrew, and we're all terribly concerned. Please, know we're praying for him."

"Thank you, m'lady." He turned to leave.

"If you want to talk about it—"

"I don't."

After dinner, he slipped into the kitchen courtyard for a smoke. He sat on a bench, sheltered from view of the house. There was a definite chill of autumn in the air. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps on the bricks and turned to see Mrs. Molesley coming toward him. "They told me I'd find you out here," she said. The former Phyllis Baxter sat down beside him. "Lady Mary sent me a note, telling me about Andy. She thought seeing an old friend might help. How are you holding up?"

Thomas took a long pull from his cigarette and didn't reply.

She offered him an understanding smile. "I know how much you love him and how worried you are. Mr. Molesley and I are worried too."

"What will I do if he doesn't come back?" It was the first time he had seriously stopped to consider his future without Andy.

Phyllis put an arm around his broad shoulders and gathered him toward her like a child. She held him close, and for once, he allowed himself to be comforted. At length, he pulled away, ashamed of his momentary weakness. The gentle woman spoke softly. "We've known each other a good long time, you and I. You know you can always come to us if you want to talk or if you just want some company." After her husband lost his place once again upon the death of old Lord Grantham, the couple had retired to live in the cottage once belonging to Molesley's father.

Thomas nodded. She had always been unstintingly kind to him, even after he had threatened and bullied her into spying for him years earlier. "I want to apologize again for putting you through all that mess when you first came to Downton. I know it doesn't change things, but I want you to know how much I regret it now."

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow—Thomas. I know you do." Sometimes she still saw the sad little boy she once knew inside the middle-aged man. "Maybe you should try to get some sleep now." She gave his hand a quick squeeze before leading him to the back door.

He stepped inside and made his way slowly up to his room. _Why did there have to be so many bloody stairs in this house_ , he thought for the millionth time. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, but he gave into exhaustion the minute his head hit the pillow. He passed the night in a fitful slumber that left him even wearier in the morning.

Every day that passed without news of Andy was torture for Thomas. He looked like he had aged years in that time. He ate very little now and slept badly. His pale skin took on a sickly, jaundiced appearance, and there were purple smudges beneath his eyes. He didn't notice the growing look of concern on everyone's face as he continued to perform his duties through a fog of misery. "Perhaps you should take some time off, Barrow," Lady Mary suggested one afternoon. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see the depth of suffering on the butler's face.

"No, thank you, m'lady," he replied automatically.

"It might help to get away for a while."

Thomas' voice rose hysterically. "I have to stay busy. Can't you understand that?"

Mary was taken aback. It was the first time she had ever seen the cool, impassive servant lose control.

He was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, m'lady. Forgive me."

"Of course, but if there's anything we can do to help, please let me know."

"There isn't, but thank you." He retreated back into his professional capacity and exited the room. Mary thought absently that it must be rather wonderful to be loved by Thomas Barrow.

After their conversation, he took a walk to the village to get his emotions in check before he came completely undone. He was embarrassed about his outburst with Lady Mary. It had always been a point of pride with him that he only let people see as much of him as he wanted them to see, but then he wasn't so concerned about his pride these days. He found himself standing in front of the war memorial, his head down and his hands buried deep in his pockets when he heard a small voice call out to him. "Mr. Barrow?"

He turned to see Daisy Mason approaching him. She had grown into a strong, confident woman since leaving the Downton Abbey kitchen. She was now a well respected and popular teacher at the village school. She was also a woman of means as Mr. Mason had left her everything he owned when he passed on. Thomas managed a weak smile. "Is school out already?"

"It's Saturday, Mr. Barrow." For Thomas, time had stopped when he learned about Andy's disappearance. Daisy turned to the memorial and ran her fingers slowly over William's name. "I still think about him. I must have loved him really."

He nodded, wondering whether there would be another memorial for this war and if Andy's name would be on it.

She seemed to read his mind. "Mrs. Molesley told me about Andy. Is there any news?"

"I'm afraid not." He should have known that Phyllis would tell her. Since losing both Mr. Mason and Mrs. Patmore, the Molesleys had become a second set of surrogate parents to the woman.

They stood for a moment in companionable silence before Daisy spoke. "I don't know if you ever knew, but I had a crush on you when I first came to Downton."

Thomas smiled in remembrance. "Certainly, I knew. I took you to that fair, didn't I?" He didn't tell her he had only done it to upset William and anger Mr. Bates. It had felt strange to be out with someone he could hold hands with in public without someone calling the police. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"I didn't know about you then. Mrs. Patmore tried to tell me once, but I was too young to understand what she meant."

He didn't know what to say.

"I liked Andy a lot too. I bet you never knew that."

"Certainly I knew, and so did he. I told him he should ask you out."

"He never did, though."

"No."

"He was only ever interested in you."

Thomas smiled self-consciously. "There's no accounting for taste."

"Well, I'd better get on. I hope Andy's alright. I really do. Goodbye, Mr. Barrow."

He watched her walk away until she disappeared completely. Then he set off back home. A cold rain had begun to fall, but he didn't mind; the weather matched his mood. Before entering the kitchen courtyard, he promptly lit a cigarette, leaning with his back against the stone wall. He wasn't quite ready yet to be Mr. Barrow, the sleek and capable butler of Downton Abbey. He needed a few more moments to just be Thomas, the man whose heart was breaking over the missing Andy.

He watched disinterestedly as a solitary figure approached from the distance. As it came nearer, he noted that it was a man carrying a valise, dressed in a military uniform of some kind, a common sight these days. "What are you doing standing out in the rain?" the man shouted to him.

 _Andy?_


	5. Chapter 5

Thomas dropped his cigarette and raced toward the man, enveloping him in a fierce hug that nearly knocked them both over. "You're alive. Thank God. Thank God." He began to cry deep sobs of relief, all the emotions he had been holding inside suddenly erupting.

"You weren't really worried?" Andy hated to think he had caused the other man pain.

Thomas' tears turned to laughter. "Let me look at you."

The pilot stood at attention in his RAF uniform, a look of concern on his face. "I reckon I look better than you do." Andy noticed how pale and worn-looking the older man had become. He brushed back a silvery lock of hair that the rain had plastered to the butler's forehead and kissed him tenderly.

Thomas wished that kiss could last forever. "We'd better get inside before we both catch pneumonia." He longed to take Andy's hand, but they were coming in view of the house now, and he knew they could be observed from inside.

Once through the back door, they made their way slowly to the servants' hall with the staff clamoring excitedly about them. The maids took turns embracing the airman, laughing and crying at the same time as he sat down at the long table. The cook set a steaming cup of tea and a thick sandwich in front of him. "There you go, lad. Tuck in."

He took an enormous bite and smiled. "Thanks for that."

"Tell us what happened," one of the maids begged, finding the men towels to dry themselves. Andy removed his hat and ran the towel over his face and hair before answering. The women lamented the loss of his curls, a constant source of good-natured teasing below stairs. They crowded in closer as he began his terrible tale.

His squadron had gone out on a routine scouting mission along the southern coast when they were suddenly engulfed by German fighter planes. They exchanged a barrage of machine gun fire with his Spitfire and a German Heinkel locked in a dogfight to the death. The two aircraft soon found themselves alone far out over the Celtic Sea when his plane sustained a mortal blow, and he was forced to parachute out.

Andy paused to take another bite of the sandwich and a long swallow of tea. The servants were staring at the pilot in awe, investing him with newfound respect. He was no longer the boyish and lovable footman. Now he was a genuine war hero sitting there at their table. Thomas felt a surge of pride. "Well, don't stop now," he implored, making everyone laugh.

Andy continued his narrative. He had found a large piece of debris from the downed plane floating nearby and climbed atop it. He remained in the water for three days, cold; tired; hungry; and most of all thirsty; unable to drink the seawater all around him. He was about to give up and let himself sink to a watery grave when he spotted a small boat in the distance growing larger. When it got near enough, Andy waved his arms wildly and called out to the vessel as loudly as he could with the last of his remaining strength. Thankfully, the boat, an Irish fishing trawler, noticed the airman and pulled him from the water. When they returned to port a few days later, he made his way back to his squadron and was granted a two-day leave. He had gone to London first to see his family and then on to Downton for his second night.

"Why didn't you let us know as soon as you set foot on dry land? Do you know how worried we all were?" Thomas admonished him.

"Mum begged me to call you, but I wanted it to be a surprise."

Thomas couldn't be angry. Andy had made it back to him, and that was all that mattered.

The staff was still congregated in the servants' hall when a bell on the wall began to jangle wildly. The family was in the library waiting for their tea. The butler went up to apologize for the delay while the cook hurriedly got everything ready. As soon as Thomas was out of the room, Andy turned to the housekeeper. "Mr. Barrow doesn't look very well. He hasn't been ill, has he?"

The maids giggled as the woman explained. "We thought he might die for worrying about you. He's hardly eaten or slept since you disappeared."

Andy felt bad about being the cause of the other man's distress, but a small part of him enjoyed the feeling too. Thomas returned downstairs for the tea tray. "Do you want me to do that?" Andy offered.

The suggestion was met with a grin. "Are you joking? You're a bloody war hero. They're all waiting upstairs to see you."

Andy accompanied Thomas into the library where he was once again made to relive the tale of his plane crash and subsequent ordeal at sea to the suitably impressed family. Lady Mary was relieved to see the butler looking more like his old self as he served the tea.

That night right after the servants had finished their dinner, Thomas announced his intention to turn in early, citing the day's excitement. Andy echoed his words and followed closely after him, supposedly to his old room which had been specially made up for him. As soon as they left the servants' hall, the maids broke into a peal of bawdy laughter.

The two men raced up the four flights of stairs, laughing like lunatics. Thomas opened his bedroom door, pulling Andy inside, and began to kiss him passionately. They hastily removed their clothes and fell back on the bed. "God, I've missed you," Thomas declared. The whole thing was over very quickly, both men too excited to take it slow. "Do you really have to leave in the morning?" Thomas laced his fingers with Andy's.

"Only if you don't want to see me accused of desertion."

Thomas nodded acceptingly. "Then that just leaves tonight. You'll have to remember to mess up your bed in the morning."

"I'm not going to get any sleep, am I?"

"None." Thomas raised himself to a sitting position. "What was it like out in that water when you thought you were going to die? You must have been awfully scared."

The pilot became serious. "I was terrified, but the worst part was believing I'd never see you again. It was the thought of you that kept me going."

Thomas took Andy's hand. "I want to say something to you. I promised myself if I ever got the chance, I would tell you how much you mean to me."

"It's alright. You don't have to."

"No, I want to do this. I love you, Andy, more than Philip or Edward or Jimmy or anyone else. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel second best. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Thomas opened the drawer of his night table, pulled out a small box, and removed the items inside. "I've had these for a long time, but I … " His voice drifted off with embarrassment.

"Rings?" Andy studied one of the bands closely.

Thomas looked exceedingly uncomfortable, unable to look the younger man in the eye. "I thought we could wear them on chains around our necks, under our clothes, so only we would know, but not until you come home, of course." He added, "I guess I'm getting soppy in my old age."

Andy grinned at him. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Don't be daft," Thomas replied gruffly.

"Shouldn't you go down on one knee?"

"Not bloody likely. So what do you say?"

"I say yes. I will marry you."

Later that night, the maids congregated outside the door dividing the women's quarters from the men's. They had to stifle their giggles at the sounds coming from the other side until the housekeeper caught them and ordered them to bed. When everyone was tucked away, she put her ear to the door, chuckling at what sounded like a lamp being knocked over. It was nice to have everything back to normal again.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Epilogue_**

Andy stood in front of the grave, pulling his coat tighter against the icy, winter wind. The small marker read _Thomas Barrow 1885–1947_. After the war, Andy had returned to the Abbey to spend what should have been many years with Thomas but was, in reality, less than three. At first, it was just a cough that kept getting worse. Then the butler began to experience chest pain and shortness of breath until finally, he began to cough up blood. It was lung cancer. Thomas received the news of his prognosis stoically. He was adamant that he wished to remain at Downton, even when he became too ill to leave his bed. Lord Grantham generously hired nurses to care for him, so he and Andy could spend what time that remained together.

The footman fought hard to remain strong. He was determined to appear cheerful, not allowing Thomas to see the anguish behind his sunny façade. They talked a lot about the old days: about Carson, about Mrs. Patmore, even about Jimmy. When Thomas became too weak to talk, Andy would read to him from the newspaper or one of his beloved novels.

Andy wrote to Thomas' sister with the sad news but never heard back. However, the butler was never short of company. The other servants popped in often, and the Molesleys and Daisy were frequent visitors. Even the family members dropped by occasionally.

Thomas had no appetite now and ate almost nothing, despite Andy feeding him his favorite foods from a tray. His body was emaciated, and the bones in his face stood out in sharp relief, giving him a skeletal appearance. His gray eyes were sunken and dull.

They didn't speak about the cancer or what was going to happen until the end was near. Thomas insisted he wanted to be buried in Downton and not with his parents back in Manchester. Andy purchased two adjoining plots, one for Thomas and one for himself when his time came. Let people make of it what they would.

The doctor visited every day, but there was nothing to be done. The pain was becoming increasingly worse, and the injections of morphine more frequent. Thomas hated the drugs as they put him to sleep when he wanted to spend what time he had left with Andy. He only allowed them when the pain became unbearable.

One night shortly before his death, Thomas fixed Andy with a frightened look in his eyes. His mouth moved soundlessly trying to formulate the words. "Am I damned?" he whispered. There were tears sliding down his sunken cheeks.

It broke Andy's heart to know he was troubled by these thoughts, and he was quick to reassure him. "God loves you almost as much as I do, and He wants you with Him in heaven. He must get tired of all those boring saints." He gently wiped the tears from the other man's face and saw a little smile appear there.

Andy was becoming exhausted, trying to keep things going for the Crawleys and tending to Thomas' needs too. The family was surprisingly understanding. Even they could see the beauty in the love these two men shared.

On Thomas' last night, Andy sat beside his bed, holding his scarred, withered hand while he rested in a drug-induced sleep, gasping for breath. The other servants came to say their goodbyes, leaving the room in tears. Thomas woke only once and seeing Andy, mouthed, "I love you."

"I love you too."

They were the last words Thomas ever heard. Andy cradled the other man's shrunken, lifeless form in his arms and dissolved into wracking sobs. He refused to leave Thomas' side until Grassby's arrived in the morning.

The funeral took place three days later. Thomas would have been surprised to see how many people were there. His elderly sister came with her two grown children. She had never made a secret of the fact that she was deeply ashamed of her brother and his aberrant lifestyle. She was even more unhappy to discover that Thomas had left everything he owned to Andy. Most of the footman's large family arrived to pay their respects to Andy's "special friend," as they always referred to him, and to comfort the grieving Andy. The entire Crawley family was in attendance along with their staff, as well as many of the people from the village including Daisy Mason and the Molesleys. Mr. Bates was there too with Anna which would have amazed Thomas, no doubt.

A year had passed since then, and Andy was once more at the gravesite. He liked to come as often as possible even though it always made him sad. He still wore the ring Thomas had given him around his neck. Its twin was buried in the ground below, along with his heart. There was a crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him. He turned, surprised to see a small, balding man with a thin mustache approaching him. "Hello, Andy. I hoped you'd still be here."

With a shock, Andy realized it was Jimmy Kent who had left Downton almost a quarter of a century earlier. "Jimmy! What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to York with my family—my wife has an old aunt there. I saw the sign for Downton and thought why not. I've talked about my time here so often over the years that everyone else was anxious to see it too. It's changed a lot since I left. Pip's Corner is covered with houses now."

"A lot of things have changed since you left."

Jimmy nodded sadly. "I stopped by the Abbey to see the old gang, but I didn't know any of them anymore. The housekeeper told me about Thomas. She said you were out here visiting the grave, and I wanted to come to pay my respects." He paused to look down at the marker. "I would have been at the funeral if I had known."

"I didn't know how to reach you."

Jimmy mused. "I never forgot Thomas, you know. He was the bravest person I ever met. I think I loved him really, but I was too scared to admit it back then. I never told you this, but I was jealous of you. You got to have him in a way that I never could. He loved you very much."

Andy was afraid to speak, feeling the emotion welling up inside him. "We were very happy together," he finally mumbled.

The two men turned from the grave and walked back to where Jimmy's car was idling, his wife, Martha, and two teenage girls waiting inside. "So what kind of work are you doing now?" Andy asked.

"My father-in-law brought me into his car business with him, and I did well. When he died, he left it all to me."

"All right for some," Andy joked.

"Well, you know me. I always land on my feet."

For a moment, Andy caught a glimpse of the old devil-may-care Jimmy he once knew and smiled.

Jimmy opened up his car door. Before getting in, he extended his hand to Andy and said resignedly, "The better man won."

Andy watched him drive off before making his way slowly back home. Lord Grantham had offered him the butler position after Thomas' death which he accepted gratefully. He lived for three decades more, and when he died, his family members had him placed in the ground next to Thomas, still wearing the ring around his neck. Everyone agreed that was the way it should be.


End file.
